12.12.2018, Jamal Tuschick

Light Skin My Mother’s Heritage

Besides her strength and her power

Her gift I got at birtha backpack full of white history shitThinking I don’t have to deal with itCause father is the one that gave me colorThe oppressor and the oppressed in oneCultural significance embodiedStill too much pain for a person to carry

Light skin my mother’s heritage

Which I sometimes wanted less and other times wanted moreSelf degrading myself for the color I haveForgetting it’s a giftMind and soul having issues with thatNow I can say at least I don’t want to kill myself no more

And my mother, my goddess I love you so much, white motherYou gave me a house but never a home but it’s not your faultBut it’s my painI’m not youYou’re not meMother don’t leave me homelessProvide me a home evenEven if it might not be by your sideBecause I’m next to youBut I’m not meJust a body without a soulNot filled up with any identitySo my white motherLet me repeat I love youBut there is no meNo self-consciousness of what it means to not have your skinNo knowledge of the history my ancestors have been throughDon’t even know the meaning of my nameNo way I can stayMy mental health decaysCause staying with youMeans never knowing who I am